


la vie en rose est souvent le bullshit

by AlasPoorAndy



Category: Bandom, The Who
Genre: Angst, Dancing, Everything is terrible, F/M, Hurt, Love, M/M, Pain, Unrequited Love, Wedding, falling in love the night before a wedding is never a good idea, gay ass fucking dancing, tw: french
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-15
Updated: 2016-06-15
Packaged: 2018-07-15 04:09:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7207211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlasPoorAndy/pseuds/AlasPoorAndy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>or, edith piaf was a perfectly nice girl.</p><p>the night before a wedding, something borrowed, someone blue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	la vie en rose est souvent le bullshit

**Author's Note:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kFzViYkZAz4

And so I will always remember when I first got that sticky, black tar feeling that has stayed behind my ribs for years. The inkling had started when you met her, and had only grown and spread since that spring night in 1971, our final farewell to the way things used to be. 

You and I stood together, leaning back against the side of my expensive car, watching as the wide summer sky above us quickly turned dark with the imminent crawl of dark rain clouds. You had been overseeing that your gigantic pre-wedding festivities had been dismantled and taken away by the rental companies, and the people you hired had cleaned up the giant nearby field you installed your party in. Your exhausted little cousins had been carried back to their parent’s cars, falling asleep safely in loving arms. Your drunken friends had carried themselves back home, wishing you all the luck in the world, and went home to sleep and prepare themselves for the even bigger reception the next day. Your beautiful, blushing fiancée kissed you and went to spend the night at her sister’s in anticipation of her wedding day. I stayed behind with you, because I wasn’t quite ready to say goodbye.

“It’s a good thing the rain held off for us,” you smiled, lazy and tired and simultaneously the happiest I’ve seen you in a long time. 

“Mm, you got lucky,” I agreed, glad my prayers had been heard and start of your wedding festivities had gone perfectly. 

I had been surreptitiously knocking back drinks all day while everyone around me celebrated you two, yet I had been sliding backwards and getting more sober as the night went on. Still, I turned to you just as the cold wind started picking up and blowing your soft curls around. “Let me drive you home.”

You gave me that big, lethal grin. “Could you? Thanks so much, mate.”

I reached over and pulled a piece of grass off your shirt. You had been playing and roughhousing with everyone’s kids in the grass and mud, and Heather’s eyes had gone warm when she saw how you could make the little ones laugh hysterically until they were clutching their small, aching bellies. She could give you children and the beautiful family you’ve always wanted, of course she’s perfect for you.

I slid into the smooth leather driver’s seat of my car that I had bought to distract myself with these past few weeks, and I avoided looking at my own sullen face in any of the mirrors. You sat next to me, and we drove the short distance in comfortable silence, with you staring dreamily out the window, watching the tail-end of the sunset with your thoughts a million miles away. I watched you as long as I could before I would have accidentally crashed the car, trying to etch this fleeting moment in my mind forever.

We got back to your flat and you invited me in. You never liked coming back to a cold, empty home. All of her things were perfectly mixed with yours. Pictures of you two lined every wall. Her books were next to yours. The blanket she knit was draped on your couch. You two shared dinnerware. I watched as you stretched to get a cup from the cupboard for a simple glass of water, and I wished I hadn’t been so fucking upset over you casually using one of her mugs, yet here I am. 

“Are you nervous for tomorrow?” I found myself asking.

“Well, it’s not like it’s my first marriage,” you joked, and I heard myself laugh, like a nasally, tinny echo. “It’s the first marriage I actually truly care about though. So, yeah, it’s a big moment. I want it to go well.”

“The reception will be fun,” I added lamely.

“I think the last time I checked we were up to four hundred guests,” you laughed in disbelief. “Oh god, I hope we’ll have enough food, and enough chairs…”

You were a stunning mix of adult fretting and childish excitement. I wanted to hold you and ease your nerves nonetheless, even bring myself to share in your excitement but I couldn’t. “Everything will work out just fine. You two will have so much fun.”

“I can’t wait to see her dress,” you were staring off into the empty space behind me, then your focus snapped back in front of you. “Pete, I don’t even know what I’m going to do for our first dance!”

“I’m no expert, but I’m sure you simply have to dance with her.”

You cupped your face, finding something new to worry over. “We should have practiced before. I was stupid enough to waste my time fretting about hors d’oeuvres when I should have signed us up for ballroom dancing lessons. I don’t want Heather to look bad in front of everyone and—“

I gave you a reassuring smile. The moment was so endearing I wanted to aide you in any way I could, as your best friend. “Let me teach you a simple box step before I go, you silly lout.”

Your eyes lit up. “Of course, didn’t you say you had dancing lessons as a kid?”

I wandered over to the crates of records in the living room, some still marked with Heather’s name. I flicked through her collection, trying to find the record I wanted. You pushed the coffee table aside and rolled up the small rug. Watching you be so eager in everything you did made my chest tighten.

I selected the record, the same one I had learned to dance with. I figured the lyrics were fitting to everything I've wanted to tell you, not that you understood French anyways. I put the needle on the track and approached you, suddenly nervous. You stood, looking up at me, the perfect and willing student. I will always testify that you trusted me too much. I was never worthy of so much love and respect from someone like you.

“I’ll teach you how to lead,” I told you. I placed your hand around my waist, shivering as you spread your fingers against my lower back. My left hand rested lightly on your shoulder and my right hand held yours, our fingers intertwining, just like they would tomorrow with your new bride’s. 

_“Des yeux qui font baisser les miens, un rire qui se perd sur sa bouche…”_

I spoke softly, the moment growing tender. “Now, step forward with your left foot, and I’ll go back with my right foot at the same time.”

_“Voilà le portrait sans retouche, de l'homme auquel j'appartiens…”_

The plucking of the strings, like a lazy heartbeat supporting her words, gave us the guiding rhythm. Your eyebrows furrowed together, deep in concentration as you calculated each step, and my lips were close enough to kiss the wrinkle between yours brows and soothe away your worry.

_“Quand il me prend dans ses bras, il me parle tout bas, je vois la vie en rose…”_

“Good, now your right foot goes to the side, yes, like that. Now bring your left foot to close.” You looked down at our feet and carefully worked it out in your head. 

_“Il me dit des mots d'amour, des mots de tous les jours, et ça me fait quelque chose…”_

“Now step back with your right foot and close with your left foot. Excellent.” I murmured. “Step to the side with your left foot, and close with your right. Just like a box.”

“Gee, you’re so good at this, Pete,” you said appreciatively, looked up, and gave me that lopsided smile that would surely kill me one day.

_“Il est entré dans mon cœur, une part de Bonheur, dont je connais la cause…”_

“Let’s try again,” I held you closer to me, discouraging you from looking at your feet. “Start on your left. Forward, close. Side, close. Back, close. Side, close.”

The room had fallen dark, only the streetlamp by your window lit us. “Try to relax, Roger. You’re far too rigid.” I felt you loosen up in my arms, and I swallowed quickly.

_“Des nuits d'amour à ne plus en finir, un grand bonheur qui prend sa place…”_

“Like this?” You asked me, moving gracefully once you trusted your own feet. 

“Yes. You’re doing beautifully.”

_“Des ennuis, des chagrins, s'effacent. Heureux, heureux à en mourir…”_

We were gliding around the hardwood floor in big looping circles. I watched your confidence blossom in a few short minutes as you worked over and over until it was perfect. You always did learn so quickly.

I worried for our future, in that moment. I never thought domesticity would suit you, yet like with everything you did, you charged forward head on. I could only hope you were making the right decision.

_“C'est toi pour moi, moi pour toi dans la vie, il me l'a dit, l'a juré pour la vie…”_

“Slow, quick, quick. Slow, quick, quick.” I hummed. We could now dance in time with the strings in the song. Your arm wound tighter around my waist, now bravely guiding me in our unique rhythm. I dared myself to look down and you caught my eye. I felt frightened that you would see right through me and learn everything I had tried so hard to conceal.

_“Et dès que je t'aperçois, alors je sens dans moi, mon cœur qui bat…”_

In a few short hours, the sun would rise again and you would sign the papers, officially marrying her. The love of your life. 

I felt full of something black and sticky, starting in the pit of my stomach and rising higher. The tar feeling started growing that night and never went away for the rest of my life. We slowed our footing as the record ended, crackling to a warm finish, and I had to let you go.

**Author's Note:**

> used for reference: https://heathertaylordaltrey.wordpress.com/articles/roger-daltrey-the-biography/
> 
> it’s about time i learned how to italicize smh
> 
> this is just a little one shot to tide you over, i hope you dig it. The Big Project is going well but coming along rather slowly, let's hope i can finish it in time!


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